The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Two

As Ser Ramon of Garth looked around him, he came to realise that the city he had once known was gone. As the light subsided, and the streets became more and more indistinguishable from one another, he wondered if he would ever be able to walk along the roads and streets without having those thoughts running around his head. They were like crows, sqwaking at him every day, merciless. He walked passed the taverns and the ironworks and down towards the riverway. There were several large groups of soldiers, he noted, and saw that all of them appeared to be new to the sword. Ramon stopped short of the makeshift docks and looked out towards the Eastern Road, each side was flanked in the distance by tall trees and shrubbery. Deeper still, and with his eyes squinted, he could see the outline of the Grey Mountains, although they looked no bigger than a molehill from here.
'Ser Ramon of Garth, the legends are real indeed.' said a familiar voice from behind the Knight. He turned, looking down the street to a group of knights that were enjoying an ale. Ramon walked closer to the group, before stopping short of them.
'Hersan.' He said, almost in a whisper.
Ser Hersan, Commander of the Third legion, rose to his feet and saluted his former leader. Hersan was a tall, imposing figure. He had slick blonde hair with opal eyes and fair skin.
'Indeed Ser, in the flesh.' The two men met, and smiled at one another.
'It's been a long time my friend.' Ramon returned still grinning.
'Aye, too long. Since you appear to have all your limbs I would suggest that the last trip was a success.'
Ramon's smile faded, Hersan knew all too well what that meant.
'Come sit with us. Have an ale, I imagine you're parched.' He didn't wait for an answer. Ramon felt himself pulled towards the nearest stool. He sat and picked up an ale. The knights had taken to using the streets as a tavern it seemed. There were maybe seven or eight of them, Ramon didn't really care.
'Why are there so many of you?' he asked.
A few of them chuckled.
'Well, in truth we've got nothing else to do. The King has given us permission to use the city as we please before we get sent off again.' replied one of the younger ones. He pointed down towards the docks, Ramon saw a small troop carrier, sails raised and being loaded.
'The Eastern Edge?' he asked.
'No, we're hearing it'll be Korgen Bay, there's been some trouble with pirates recently. Nothing huge but a few ships have been boarded. We'll soon sort it.' Said Hersan, sitting himself opposite Ramon and raising a toast.
Ramon drank, the bitter taste of ale was a refreshing change from river water and the occasional boiled siff drink that Astriel had made them on the journey.
It was getting slowly darker, the sun was setting and the place was now stripped in yellow and pink dying light.
'How did it happen?' Hersan asked, his face deadly serious.
Ramon took another long gulp of his ale before throwing the rest out in the street.
'It was a Kludde. It ripped the poor bastard's chest open.' He replied.
The chatter of the knights died down. Hersan looked around his men, he saw the fear in their eyes.
'A Kludde? The Palace kept that one under wraps.' He said.
'Well, the beast is dead now, as is the boy. Its done.' replied Ramon bitterly, as he stood and began to walk on. He rounded a corner and allowed himself a few fast paced breaths.
'I'm sorry my friend.' Said Hersan, standing in the dim ly lit street light.
'Just fuck off. I've no need for a Knight.' Ramon spat back at him, still trying to control his breathe.
Hersan stood forward, he held out his hand and touched Ramon face.
'Come with me, you need to rest Ser.'
Ramon batted the hand away.
'I need to find the boy's parents, I know they have a place near here.' He returned, avoiding his friend's gaze.
'Yes, they do. I know them well, but you can see them in the morning. You need rest Ramon, please.' Hersan returned. Ramon stood, his eyes wary and his skin cold. Sweat had began to bead on his forehead.
'In the morning my friend, in the morning.' His friend returned. 'Until then you can sleep in my quarters. Come.'

As Ramon sat in the steaming water, his hands numb and his skin crackled, he could think of nothing. Hersan returned with another bucket of water and duely poured it into the tub. He looked down at his friend and wondered what he had seen since Erengon. He looked across and saw his sword, Helmare, and smiled at the thought of the last great battle of the West. It was, by now, over twenty years since they had marched down to that small now abandoned village and laid seige to it. The High Lords knew the cost of it, so had all the men that had fought that day. It was mercifully short, a few hours or so, and the casualties had been minimal. It had been Brodon's only active military assault in the Western Kingdoms, and one the Lords had convinced him of only at the very last moment.
'You need to stop thinking about it.' Ramon's growel brought Hersan back to reality sharply.
'You're one to talk.' the Knight replied with a laugh.
'He took a seat beside his friend and cracked open a fresh bottle of wine. He poured two servings and passed one to Ramon. There was silence.
'How do you do it,' Ramon said, looking only towards the fireplace. ', how do you take it so easily?'
'I don't Ramon. I don't live a day where I don't think about that day. None of us do. But we fought for our King, and our Kingdom. We did what was right, what we were trained to do. You should know that better than anyone.'
'Erengon doesn't even exist anymore Hersan. It's nothing but scorched earth and piles of rubble now.' replied Ramon, his hand circling over his scarred kneecap.
'I'll never forget the scream you made when that arrow hit you.' Hersan returned.
Ramon looked up to his friend.
'The King knew.' he said.
'Knew? What about?' replied Hersan with a confused expression.
'The rebels, he knew what they had against him. They were our friends Hersan.' Said Ramon assertively.
Hersan took a moment, he looked back to Helmare and down at his friend. He traced the scars along the man's back with his eyes.
'They were traitors Ramon, all of them. Traitors to the King and his father. They were traitors to all of us.' He replied.
'An entire village.' Whispered Ramon.
'For the Kingdom Ramon, that's our duty.'
Ramon shook his head and turned.
'Then why do you still serve? Give it up and go live in some shit farmhouse somewhere in the North. Or become a fisherman.' Said Hersan angrily.
'I don't serve the King, Hersan, I serve the Kingdom.'